Deadly Intent Page 14

  The doors opened on the Mustang and Thurston, and Ferrero climbed out. Axe gave the general a big cheesy grin and said, “You sure are a sight for sore eyes, ma’am.”

  “You too, Axel,” she said. “Where are the rest?”

  Axe winced. “Most of them are right behind me, ma’am.”

  “Most?” Ferrero said.

  “We lost Spencer and Reaper.”

  “Elaborate,” Thurston said, her voice filled with concern.

  Before he could say any more, Cara appeared out of the darkness with the girls, Reynolds and Teller.

  “Ma’am,” she greeted her commander. “Good to see you. You too, Luis.”

  “And you, Cara,” Thurston told her. “Axel was just about to explain why you are two men short.”

  Cara hesitated and then said, “We got separated from them. They were laying down a rearguard when there was an explosion. They never joined us.”

  “You didn’t go and look?” Ferrero asked.

  “I made the call not to, sir,” Cara explained. “We were outgunned and had the girls to worry about. It was my decision, and I’ll wear it.”

  “Do you think they are dead?” Thurston asked.

  The question was blunt, straight to the point.

  Cara opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. It was the first time she believed there to be a real possibility that Kane wasn’t coming home. She said, “Yes, ma’am, it’s possible. But I’m not sure.”

  “When we get back to El Paso, I’ll make a few calls and see if it can be confirmed.”

  “We’re headed back, ma’am?” Axe asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. We have no choice. This thing was a clusterfuck from the beginning. It’s time to regroup and re-arm.”

  “Ma’am, have you heard anything about Jimmy?”

  Thurston sighed. “That is a whole other story.”

  Chapter 13

  Mexico City, Two days later

  United States Ambassador Karen Day walked out of the large concrete and glass embassy towards the three black SUVs which awaited her. Her high-heeled shoes clacked against the hard surface of the footpath with each step.

  Normally she would have been protected by DSS agents who watched over ambassadors across the globe. But this was Mexico and the cartel activity of late had been intense. So, she had put in a special request for private military contractors in the hope that they would discourage the Mexican drug lords from any notion of making her a target.

  They issued Karen with six men. Combat veterans who’d served on the ground in all corners of the known world. Two of them rode in the front SUV, two with her, and two in the follow-up vehicle. Also, for the day’s trip to a government-funded orphanage on the outskirts of the city, they would have units of the Policía Federal along as well.

  The orphanage was having an opening day on a newly-built dormitory funded by the U.S., to accommodate the influx of children who’d lost parents due to the escalation in the Narco wars. The project had cost ten million dollars.

  Karen was a very athletic forty-four, worked out every day at the embassy gym, ate healthily, and swam five kilometers twice a week in the pool.

  That morning she wore a navy pantsuit, her dark hair was blown down below her collar, and she had on her favored aviator sunglasses.

  A smile touched her lips as she arrived at the middle SUV. The big man with the shaved head and tattoos on his forearms waited for her with the rear door open. “Morning, Brick. Sleep well?”

  The big security man decked out in full tactical gear returned her smile. “Like a baby, ma’am.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “I think we should do it again this evening.”

  Brick Peters stared out from behind his own sunglasses and shook his head. “No, ma’am. You’ve got me licked in that pool.”

  “I thought you SEALs were meant to be tough?”

  “Even the best of us can get waterlogged, ma’am.”

  “Pussy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Shall we go?” Karen said and climbed in the back.

  Brick pressed his talk button and said into his mic, “We’re moving, mount up.”

  The security team got into the vehicles. One man would drive, while the other rode shotgun. Brick sat his M4A1 down beside him after he settled into the passenger seat. He looked over at his driver, a Texan named Brett, who came from somewhere near Houston. “You ready?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Brick said into his mic, “Zed, let’s roll.”

  The vehicle in front started to move away from the curb. The other two SUVs pulled out behind it. Two armored humvees eased away from the sidewalk and fell in front of the first SUV. The same happened behind the last. They were all mounted with machine guns which made the convoy look as though it was driving along a street in Afghanistan, not Mexico City.

  Inside each was two other Mexicans, fully armed and ready for battle.

  “How long will it take us to get there, Brick?” Karen asked.

  “It’ll take about forty mikes, ma’am.”

  “Mikes?”

  “Minutes.”

  “Yes, right.”

  Driving along the street for a couple of blocks before turning east, they then stayed on that route for another three miles and crossed over onto the freeway which took them to the outskirts of the city.

  Brick’s comms came to life with sudden traffic. One of the rear humvees reported a black Ford van following them. He picked up his scanner and turned it on. It was filled with chatter. He glanced at Brett. “They’re dialed in on us. Keep an eye out.”

  Brett nodded and kept driving.

  Pressing his transmit button on his radio, Brick said, “Listen up. We’ve got cartel assholes watching our every move. Keep an eye out and call in anything suspicious.”

  The other two SUVs called in while Brick picked up his M4 and checked its load.

  “What is it, Brick?” Karen asked.

  “It’s nothing, ma’am. Just a few unfriendlies.”

  Brick trained his eyes forward so he could scan the side streets before they reached them. The chatter continued on the scanner as cartel soldiers called out the progress of the ambassador’s column.

  “I don’t like this, Brick,” came the call from Zed in the front car. “We’ve got traffic backed up in front and some roadworks at the on-ramp.”

  No sooner had Zed finished speaking when the brake lights to their SUV came on.

  “Brick, copy?” Miller from the third SUV said over the comms.

  “Copy.”

  “Eyes up left, Brick. I’m pretty sure I just caught sight of a Mexican with a weapon on a rooftop.”

  “Copy, Miller. Keep an eye out.”

  The column came to a halt, and Brick cursed under his breath. Before him lay the line of traffic stopped at the workmen. A prickle of nervous concern heightened his senses. He hadn’t experienced the feeling since his last Afghanistan tour when his team was about to be hit. His gut never lied.

  The rooftops to Brick’s left held a lot of signage, and some even had crenellations. His eyes were skimming over a sandstone building with an insurance sign on it when he saw movement. It was only a flicker, but the sight of a man with binoculars to his eyes, who looked as though he was talking into a cell or a radio, jolted him into action.

  “We’ve got to get off this street,” Brick murmured to Brett. Then into his mic, said, “Zed, get off the damned street. The crossover alley to our left. We’ll circle back to the embassy.”

  “Copy, turning now.”

  The black SUV reversed slightly before turning left and rocketing forward. Brick snapped, “Brett, follow them.”

  The second SUV lurched forward, and Karen called from the back, “What’s going on, Brick?”

  “We’re headed back to the embassy, ma’am. The cartels are up to something.”

  “No. Keep going to the opening.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. Your safety is my c
all. I say we head back.”

  In a low voice, Karen hissed, “This is fucking bullshit.”

  “Miller? Copy?”

  “Go, Brick.”

  “Do we have an eye in the sky?”

  “I think so. Call the embassy.”

  “Roger,” Brick acknowledged. The SUV entered the alley with a large bump and motored along. “Eagle Base, this is Eagle One, over.”

  “Got you, Eagle One,” a voice came back.

  “I need to know if we have a bird in the air, over.”

  “Wait one, Eagle One.”

  Christ.

  “I’m bringing up a satellite feed now, Eagle One. What seems to be the problem?”

  “I’m pretty sure we’ve got multiple Tangos on rooftops. We’re turning back and bringing the ambassador home.”

  The SUV in front smashed through a pile of wooden crates, scattering them. Bags of rubbish were ripped to shreds as the motorcade careened over the top. Brick glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the third SUV on their tail, followed by the Humvees.

  “Oh shit!” A voice came over the open comms from the comms room at the embassy. Obviously on VOX.

  “Say again, Eagle Base.”

  When the voice came back, there was a nervous edge to it. “Eagle One, you need to get out of there now! The rooftops are covered with Tangos. I’m dispatching DSS agents to your location.”

  Brick felt a surge of adrenaline flow through him. “Waste of time, Eagle Base. We’ll be lon—”

  The rest of the sentence remained in Brick’s throat when an incoming RPG blew the lead SUV up with devastating consequence.

  Brett jammed the brake pedal all the way to the floor, and the vehicle stopped suddenly. Brick shouted into his mic, “Back up! Back up!”

  He turned in his seat just in time to see one of the rear humvees take another rocket-propelled grenade and explode, tossing the machine gunner out of his hatch.

  “Christ” Brick snapped. “Eagle Base, we’re taking heavy fire. I say again, we’re taking heavy fire. We’ve lost one SUV and a Humvee. We’re trapped in this fucking alley.”

  “Copy, Eagle One. Backup is enroute.”

  The security team leader twisted in his seat and stared at Karen. Fear was etched on her face. “Get on the floor, ma’am. Do it now.”

  “Brick, I …”

  “Do it!”

  Karen slid onto the floor and curled herself up into a ball. Bullets started to rain down on the SUVs, the staccato rhythm sounding like a drummer’s convention. Brick took one last look at the burning vehicle in front of them. He needed to compartmentalize right now and would mourn the loss of his friends later.

  “Brett, let’s go. We can’t fight back from in here.”

  Brett nodded. “Let’s kill us some of these motherfuckers.”

  The last thing Brick said to Karen was, “Keep your head down, ma’am. We’ll be right back.”

  They flung the doors open and slid from their seats. Behind them, the other team did the same. They set up to cover opposite sides, taking aim at the shooters on the rooftops. Back along the line, a Humvee opened fire with a .50 caliber Browning.

  The bullets chewed great chunks from the edge of the rooftops as it sprayed them wildly. Brick saw a cartel soldier take a hit from a round and disappear backward in a spray of red.

  Another rocket-propelled grenade streaked through the air overhead leaving a white contrail. An ear-shattering explosion rolled along the alley when it struck home. The second Humvee flew apart with razor-sharp shards of metal scything through the air.

  “Eagle Base, where’s that fucking support? Over.” Brick shouted over his comms.

  “They’re still five minutes out, Eagle One.”

  “We’ll be dead in five minutes, over,” Brick told him as rounds ricocheted all around him.

  “Sorry, Eagle One. Five minutes is the best I can do.”

  Brick cursed under his breath and raised his M4A1. He shot the first cartel soldier he saw through the face, shifted target, and did the same again. Miller’s voice filled his earpiece. “Brick, we need to get out of this shit, buddy. It’s a fucking deathtrap in here.”

  “We still have about four minutes before help arrives.”

  Yet another RPG ripped overhead. This one hit the side of the building and sprayed the alley with debris. They’d got lucky with that shot.

  “Fuck it,” Brick hissed and hurried towards the back of the SUV. He opened it up and reached inside. When he withdrew his hand, it was filled with a kevlar vest. “Miller, move up. We’re getting out of here.”

  “Copy, we’re coming to you.”

  Brick opened the back door of the SUV and leaned in. “Here,” he said to Karen, passing her the vest. “Put this on. If we stay here, we’re all dead.”

  As though proving his point, bullets rained down on the roof, one of which opened up Brick’s right forearm. He hissed with the burning sensation but shook it off. Karen took the vest and put it on without so much as an argument. The security team leader noticed her hands trembling while she worked. He looked into her eyes and said, “You can do this. Just follow our instructions, and you’ll be fine.”

  Karen gave a hesitant nod and slid out from the back seat.

  Brick said into his mic, “Eagle Base, we’re moving. Follow us with the bird. Direct QRF to us, over.”

  “I suggest you stay put, Eagle One.”

  “You ain’t the ones neck deep in shit. Direct them to us. Brick out.”

  The security leader felt the impact of an AK round strike a glancing blow to the back of his kevlar. It made him stagger forward into the crouched form of the ambassador. He gritted his teeth and said, “Sorry ma’am.”

  “It’s … it’s OK.”

  Brick turned and shouted, “Miller, get us the hell out of here!”

  Miller started to move towards the burning wreckage of the first SUV. Black smoke billowed skyward from it in a heavy pall. The burning upholstery and melted acrylonitrile, butadiene and styrene of the dash, gave off a strong chemical stench. Behind him came his driver from the third SUV, a young, experienced Kansan named Jenkins. The team called him Billy after Billy the Kid because of his age.

  “Ma’am,” Brick said to Karen, “keep your hand on my shoulder at all times, just like we practiced, OK?”

  Karen gave him a tentative nod.

  “Right, let’s go.”

  The security team leader raised the M4A1 to his shoulder and walked away from the cover of the SUV. Bullets chewed chips of pavement out around their feet and spanged off in different directions with high-pitched whines. Every time Brick saw a target above him, he fired two quick shots at it. A 5.56 NATO round smashed into a tattooed face, slamming its owner back out of sight.

  Behind him, he could hear Brett firing bursts from his own weapon. Then he called out over the gunfire, “Brick, changing!”

  While he slapped a fresh magazine into the M4, Brick kept a closer watch to cover him. Then Brett was back at it, returning fire.

  The team leader saw his two men ahead of him skirt the burning SUV and disappear from view behind the orange flames and charcoal smoke from the burning tires. He called back over his shoulder to Karen, “Keep your head down, ma’am. This will be a little warm, but you’ll be fine.”

  “Brick? Miller. We’ve got a doorway the other side of the bonfire. Going to check it out.”

  “Copy.”

  As they navigated the narrow passage between wall and flames, the heat grew in intensity. Brick heard Karen cry out when a flame flashed out and singed her hair. “Easy, ma’am, we’re almost there.”

  “Man down! Man down!” the shout over the comms echoed through Brick’s head.

  “Who, damn it?” Although he knew the answer because the voice belonged to Billy.

  “It’s Miller. He’s dead.”

  A cold wave settled over the team commander. That made the body count three of his men. Shit!

  He broke free of the smoke and
flames to find Billy crouched near Miller. His M4A1 ripping round after round at the rooftops. Around him, Brick could see the impact of frequent bullet strikes.

  “Billy, get the damned door open, now,” Brick snarled as he squatted beside his fallen man to doublecheck his vitals. Apart from being team leader, he’d also been a combat medic for his SEAL team back in the day. There was no pulse. The bullet had entered at the top near the junction of shoulder and neck. Its trajectory would have carried it down through Miller’s heart.

  The sound of a shotgun’s roar made Brick’s head snap around in time to see Billy flung back. He’d kicked the door open, only to be greeted by an armed cartel soldier who let go with a charge from a 12 gauge pump.

  “Brett, the ambassador,” Brick shouted, and came up from his crouched position. The M4A1 in his grasp hammered into life. His thumb flicked the fire selector onto auto, and he let his anger burn freely.

  The doorway became the epicenter of hell, with round after round passing into it as the Colt chewed its way through the magazine. It ran dry, and Brick changed out the mag. He brought the weapon back up in time to see a Mexican stagger forward; his top half shot to ribbons. The man toppled forward, dropping the shotgun as he went.

  “Brett, inside! Get her inside!”

  With Brick giving them cover, Brett and Karen Day hurried towards the doorway. They almost made it.

  The first bullet punched into the kevlar vest Brett was wearing. It knocked the air from his lungs and forced him forward onto hands and knees. Behind him, Karen stumbled and straightened, took a step and went down when a slug tore into her throat.

  “Oh no! No! No! No!” Brick cried out and scrambled over to the fallen ambassador. The wound in her throat ran a river of blood, but he could do nothing about it at that point. Not when the cartel men were peppering his position with bullets.

  Brick grabbed Karen’s hand and dragged her inside, a stream of slugs kicking up at her heels. He discarded the M4A1 and concentrated on the wound.

  Karen’s eyes rolled in her head as she tried to comprehend what had happened. Blood started to fill her mouth and spill from the corner of it. Her teeth turned pink.

  “Hang in there, ma’am,” Brick told her as he started to work on her. “I need to see how bad this is.”